


Find Your Way

by Squeemu



Series: Wanderlust [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Only mild angst allowed, Road trip shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeemu/pseuds/Squeemu
Summary: Having grown up behind the safety of Insomnia's Wall, the outlands are almost overwhelming with possibilities and it's easy to get lost in the freedom of the wilderness. The boys may not know where they're going, but they've got plenty of time to find their way.A growing collection of random, in-game short stories, with as little angst as possible. Posted as I write them.





	1. the title is a spoiler

It's a nice day out, probably one of the best Prompto's ever seen. The sun is shining, the garulas are chirping, and, frankly, _frolicking_ , which is a word Prompto never expected to be able to use. Even _Ignis_ is smiling. (Prompto takes a photo of him.) So instead of enjoying this beautiful, sunny day, Noct has decided it's time to collect dust and rock shards that sparkled pretty in the sunlight.

"This will make a fine paint," Ignis says optimistically. Prompto has his doubts, but whatever. Noct is stubborn as hell and Prompto usually likes that about him. Not like he could change his mind, anyway.

And then, out of boredom, inspiration strikes.

"Hey, Noct," Prompto says super casually, "can I borrow your sword?" This is a stupid idea, probably, but— "Your _smallest_ sword?"

Gladio arches an interested eyebrow. "You want to train?"

"No," Prompto says quickly. "Definitely not. Just thought I'd do, you know. Some photo shoots with it."

Gladio snorts and immediately loses interest. Score one for Prompto. 

Noct even hops down off of his sparkly rock to come join him, summoning a sword that is definitely not as small as Prompto had hoped. "What did you have in mind?"

"Don't you have anything smaller than that?" Prompto asks. "Like, something between a dagger and—that thing?"

"This is the smallest I've got," he shrugs. "Why?"

Prompto looks around, lowers his voice. "You know that thing Ignis does?" Noct looks at him. There are a lot of things Ignis does. "With his daggers? Where he, like— _kicks_ them?" Noct stares at him some more, only it's less of a 'what the hell are you talking about' and more of a ' _what the hell are you talking about_.' "How cool would that look on film?"

"So you want _me_ to kick my sword?" he says incredulously.

"No way, man!" Prompto says, although that would look insanely cool, too. "Ignis would kill me if he found out."

"So you want… Ignis to try?" Noct says, sounding more and more skeptical.

"Dude! No! _Me!_ I want to kick them! Which is why it's got to be something bigger, there's no way I could hit one of those daggers first try."

Noct stares at him like this is the dumbest idea he's ever heard, and he's heard quite a few. 

"These boots are steel-toed," Prompto points out, literally. He's literally pointing at his boots. "Probably steel- _everything_ ed. They're Crownsguard made, remember?" 

Noct sighs, handing the sword over. Prompto pulls his camera off over his head and hands it over for the exchange, only Noct still has a pretty good grip on his sword when Prompto tries to take it. "Just don't—kick it with your leg, okay? I'm pretty sure your pants aren't made of steel."

"Maybe not, but I've got thighs of steel, baby," Prompto says before he realizes how dumb that sounds. "I'll be careful, dude, okay? I promise."

Noct sighs again, looking around to make sure Gladio and Ignis aren't watching. They've wandered off a ways, quietly chatting about something, and Noct _finally_ lets go of his sword, taking the Lokton in return. 

And hell yeah, this thing is _awesome_. Prompto takes an experimental swing with it, just because he can. There's the click of the camera, so he takes a couple more swings, just in case one of the photos turn out.

"Getting cold feet?" Noct laughs behind the lens.

Prompto is, a little bit. The sword is—definitely a lot bigger than he'd been imagining. The sharp part especially. "Just getting a feel for it," he says, reassuring them both. 

Noct laughs and takes another photo.

Prompto closes his eyes, trying to remember how Ignis looks when _he's_ the one doing the kicking. Prompto caught him once in a photo. He'd tossed a dagger in the air, waited until it turned and then _bam_. Kicked it right when the hilt was pointed at him. That wasn't so hard, right? Definitely doable. Just might take a few throws before he gets the angle right.

It takes more than a few throws. The first attempt goes straight up and straight down, burying itself enthusiastically in the ground. Noct has to dismiss the sword and summon it again before Prompto can try again. The second and third and fourth and—okay, tenth just sort of fall flat. The eleventh one is perfect, but Prompto chickens out at the last minute. 

The twelfth one, though. The twelfth one is good. Prompto kicks it, as hard as he can because he's not going to get another chance, and the blade lodges itself in the sole of his boot. It doesn't go all the way through—steel- _everything_ ed, remember?—but it definitely puts him off balance and he falls to the ground with a very solid _thwump_ , half man, half blade.

Noct drops into a crouch next to him, snapping photos and laughing, but also looking like he might throw up.

"Owwwww," Prompto moans. His back was not made to fall on rocks like that. "Dude, ow."

"Are you alright?" Noct asks.

"I'm pretty sure I fell on a boulder," Prompto whines heroically. "Maybe two."

Noct pokes at him. Snaps a photo. Pokes at his boot, maybe checking for blood. Snaps another photo, getting nice and close to the crime scene. 

"Would you kids be quiet over there?" Gladio yells. "Your dad and I are trying to have a talk."

Noct pokes at the boot again. "Does it—hurt? I don't want to take it out, if—"

 _If it cut your foot in half,_ he doesn't need to finish.

"I beg your pardon," Ignis says indignantly, loud enough to be heard from here. "I'm twenty-two. Hardly old enough to be either of their parents."

Prompto wiggles his toes, a little hesitantly. There's no pain and he can definitely feel them wiggle. "I'm good, dude. We can take it out."

"You're _sure?_ " Noct asks him. And it's sweet that he cares, but Prompto would kind of like him to hurry up and dismiss the sword before Ignis and Gladio come over to see what the fuss is about. 

"Yep," he says. He sits up a little, trying to see where they are now. "It's great. Never felt better, in fact."

"Okay," Noct says doubtfully and dismisses the sword, just in time. Gladio and Ignis come around an actual boulder and stop, peering at them.

Gladio turns to Ignis, ignoring them. "Plenty of time to have been a father, then," he says cheerfully. "Physically, anyway. Mentally you're a grandpa."

Ignis makes a distressed noise. "Then these old bones will make an early camp and _you_ can cook dinner and clean up."

Prompto pushes himself upright, testing the shoes. They feel fine. "Or a grand _ma_ ," he says before he can stop himself. This is really not the time to antagonize him. 

"No way," Noct laughs. "Grandmas dote on you and feed you cookies. Specs makes you eat _vegetables_."

"Well," Ignis sniffs. "I certainly _try_." He glances at Prompto. "And how was your photo shoot?"

Prompto clears his throat. "You'll find out tonight," he promises. Sometime _after_ he's had time clean up the photos and delete the more incriminating ones. 

He does a quick check, though, before Noct takes off for the next boulder on the horizon. There are definitely some keepers in here. He sends one to Noct's phone right before deleting it. There's no way he's going to let the others see it, but his buddy took the perfect action shot.


	2. Fruits of His Labor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on some actual in-game dialogue from Gladio that was so terrible I just had to write fix-it fic for it. (You leave Prompto alone, Gladio. He's _trying_.)

The sun was setting on a warm, muggy day in Duscae. Instead of driving an extra hour to sleep at the Chocobo Post, they were camping. Which, okay, might be nice if a breeze picked up, but after a day running after Noct, Prompto could _really_ use a shower. 

That didn't stop him from saying yes when Gladio asked if he wanted to do some extra training at the haven with him and Noct. It was an honor, right? Prompto must've been doing something right, or, uh, at least, not embarrassed himself _too_ badly. 

It was pretty amazing, too, dodging attacks and really feeling like he'd _gotten_ somewhere. At least, right up until Gladio went one-on-one with him and kicked Prompto's ass all over camp. 

"Thought you had what it takes," Gladio growled. "All that hard work and this is the fruit of your labor?"

Noct offered him a potion and a hand up, and Prompto took them both, feeling pretty cruddy about it. What had he been thinking? That he could hold his own? What a joke. 

Noct must've seen it, all over Prompto's stupid face, because he said, "Bet I could beat you in target practice, too," with that sly grin that usually made Prompto's blood buzz. Not tonight, though. Tonight, Prompto thought he was probably right. Noct _would_ beat him. And he just felt more miserable about the whole thing, knowing Noct was probably just trying to soften the blow. 

Right now, though? All Prompto wanted was to grab a bag of potato chips and his favorite movie and ignore the rest of the world for the night.

He waved off the offer and headed back towards the tent and as far away from where they were still training as possible. 

Ignis was just setting up dinner, a spoon in his hand and a big pot of something that was definitely going to be delicious on the camp stove in front of him. It was too good a photo op to pass up, so Prompto snapped a couple shots. The lighting was perfect, warm and soft, and Ignis's attention was all on the stew in front of him instead of on the camera. Noct was gonna love these, Prompto knew it.

He snapped a couple more and then, pretty much inevitably, Ignis looked directly through the camera and into Prompto's soul.

Oh crap. "Prompto," Ignis said, "mind helping me with the vegetables?"

"Uh," Prompto said, super intelligently. "Does Noct know about this?"

Ignis sighed. "Primarily potatoes and onions, I assure you."

"If you say so, dude," he said, but he put his camera down and came over. "So, uh, what exactly did you have in mind?"

Ignis handed him a knife and a cutting board. "If you wouldn't mind dicing the potatoes…"

Prompto blinked, first at Ignis, then at the knife, then at the cutting board. "Di...cing?"

Ignis studied him for a long moment, his expression completely unreadable. Prompto knew that look. His parents always got it whenever they were trying to hid irritation, or, in this case, pity. Or both. It was almost definitely both. "Cut the potatoes into small cubes," Ignis said eventually, with zero trace of irritation or pity in his tone. Huh. Okay, then. He was either the world's best actor or actually the coolest dude ever. "About a centimeter on each side."

"Got it," Prompto told him. And then, "Is that how you get Noct to eat vegetables? Just cut them up really small?"

Ignis gave him a cool look. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said with a finality that was maybe a little terrifying.

"Right. So you're saying you definitely don't hide veggies of any kind in Noct's food."

Ignis kept his mouth shut, but Prompto could see the smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Busted. 

After a minute or three of working quietly together, Prompto finally had to ask. "So, uh, what are you making for dinner? Because it smells _delicious._ "

"A stew, adapted from one of Noct's favorite dishes from the citadel. I don't have the exact recipe, I'm afraid."

Prompto sighed. A little wistfully, he'd admit it. "Some guys have all the luck."

Ignis raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Not only does he have a favorite dish, he _also_ has someone to cook it for him," Prompto tried to explain. It seemed super obvious to him, but there were a lot of things he thought were obvious that his buddies didn't seem to get. "And I bet it's going to taste even better coming from you."

"I haven't all the spices available at the citadel," Ignis protested, like that had ever stopped him from making the most best meals Prompto had ever had, "nor their equipment."

Prompto waved a hand. "Okay, maybe, but you're still fixing it for him, right?"

"I suppose I am," he said, quiet and reflective and maybe even a little pleased.

After a minute or two of trying not to stare at the guy, Prompto finally forced his attention to the potatoes. Dicing turned out to be way harder than Ignis made it look. It took a lot of concentration, cutting everything down to the right size _and_ making sure he didn't chop any of his fingers off. 

He'd almost finished the first potato when Ignis asked, his eyes still on the pot in front of him and his tone quiet, "How are you holding up?"

"W-what?" Prompto laughed anxiously, voice cracking. "Who, me? How am I holding up?" Had Ignis heard them training? Maybe if he prayed real hard, Titan would open the ground under him and let it swallow him whole. "Great! I'm holding up great!" 

"Glad to hear it," Ignis said encouragingly. "Gladio can be rather harsh sometimes."

Hearing that probably should not have made Prompto want to burst into tears. Was that normal? "Really? You think so? I mean maybe, but," he laughed, awkwardly this time, "I mean, I probably deserved it, though."

"You deserve encouragement," Ignis said, quiet but firm. "Not everyone benefits from Gladio's teaching style."

Prompto laughed again. He couldn't stop. "Does _anyone_?" It came out a little bitter.

Ignis considered that, one hand on his hip, the other idly stirring the stew. "I certainly can't speak for anyone else, but he was an excellent mentor to me when I first began training to join Crownsguard."

"Yeah, I mean, of course? You were probably already perfect," Prompto told him, in case he hadn't noticed. "I'm anything but."

Ignis laughed, startled. "If only that had been the case," he said, once he'd caught his breath. There was still a trace of a smile lingering on his lips, just a little wry. Prompto tried not to stare. "And you don't give yourself enough credit."

"Maybe." 

Ignis shook his head. "I've had formal Crownsguard training. Gladio has been training for his entire life, and Noctis with him. You, on the other hand, had one day of formal training. The fact that you have been keeping up with us at all is remarkable." He frowned at the stew, before going back to stirring it. "I dare say you've made significant progress."

Prompto flushed. And it was nice of Iggy to say it, really super nice, but. "You guys are _badass_ ," he said. "Noct has a glowing sword and you can, like, _pole vault_ a monster to death. Gladio can probably cut a sabertusk's head just by _glaring_ at it." He spread his hands, paring knife forgotten on the cutting board. "And I'm— _me_ , just trying to not fall on my ass and become dog food."

"No one is expecting you to save the day," Ignis said gently, "just to stay alive. The journey would not be the same without you." He frowned at the stew again, adding a little bit of some yellow spice to it. " _Noct_ would not be the same without you. I doubt he'd want to admit it, but he needs you." He gave Prompto a significant look that was probably a threat to keep his mouth closed. "He wants you here, with him, as part of the trip and part of his wedding. That is more than enough reason for you to be here."

"R-really? You think so?"

Ignis nodded. "Really and truly. Regardless of Gladio's… moods, you are a welcome member of our group."

Prompto could feel himself flushing, hard enough even his toes were probably red. "Cool," he blurted before he was able to keep his mouth shut. "I mean, thanks? I think?"

Ignis turned back to the stew. "Think nothing of it," he said in that tone he had that meant he'd feed Prompto to the chocobos if he ever brought it up again. "Now, how are those potatoes coming along?"

Coming? How were they _coming?_ Crap. Prompto had barely even managed to dice the first one. "Great!" he lied and went back to work. It didn't seem to take so long this time. He'd barely finished the last one before Ignis scooped them up and dumped them into the pot. 

"Excellent work, Prompto," he said, satisfied, and Prompto's face heated up all over again. "Perhaps you could help me pick the next meal."

"Uhh, sure? If you want?" he babbled. "I mean, I could—probably help."

Ignis let out a cough that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. "Since you helped me with one of Noct's favorites, I thought perhaps you could choose one of yours as our next dish."

"Seriously?! For real?"

Ignis looked at him expectantly. Probably a yes, then, for real for sure. 

"Uh, you know that place down by the arcade?" Prompto asked, like Ignis had ever been to the arcade in his life. "Thai Kwon Dough?"

"I've seen it," he admitted. Okay, that was good. A good start. 

"They have this amazing green curry," Prompto told him, "with chicken and, like, peppers. Green peppers. And, um, onions?"

Ignis nodded, face serious and thoughtful. It made Prompto feel a little ridiculous, but also kind of good, like maybe Ignis wasn't judging him and was just _listening_ , instead. Like he actually thought what Prompto was talking about mattered.

"Hmm," Ignis mused. "Perhaps—" and nodded to himself, pulling out a little black notebook and scribbling something down before snapping it shut. "Yes, I think that shall do quite nicely."

Oh man. This was gonna be great. "You're really going to make it?" he asked, just to—just to make _extra_ sure. 

"Assuming we have the ingredients, I see no reason why not," Ignis said, and just like that, he was going to make green curry. For _Prompto._

"Cool," Prompto said, like that came in any way close to showing how psyched he was about this. "Can—can I help you with anything else?"

Ignis blinked, startled, like Prompto'd just said something super dumb and very unexpected. He glanced down at the dishes before his eyes turned back to the stew. "There's no need."

"You're sure? I could, like, dry the dishes or something," he tried. He scuffed one of his shoes on the ground. "I kind of got kicked out of training. Literally. They literally kicked me off the haven. I might as well do _something_ useful."

Ignis blinked again. "That would be a wonderful help, then, thank you."

Prompto beamed at the ground. He still wasn't entirely sure he believed Ignis about the whole being-a-valued-member-of-the-team thing, but maybe—

Maybe he could change that, one dried dish at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is: _It's Not Good To Kick Daggers In The Dark, Or At Any Time, Really, Especially If You're Prompto_
> 
> This silly story was based entirely off of a photograph I got at camp one night. It really looked like Prompto was trying to kick a sword and it just got lodged in his shoe instead. Poor guy.


End file.
